


Making Scents of Memories

by Zoelily



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:40:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2367887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoelily/pseuds/Zoelily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's memories are hard to find. A conversation with an old friend, and a gift from a new one, give Harry something memorable to think about.</p>
<p>Originally written for a challenge on Live Journal a long time ago.  My prompt word was 'orange'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Scents of Memories

**Author's Note:**

> These stories are based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I own nothing!

The kitchen was quiet after the bustle of dinner at 12 Grimmauld Place. Only two people remained seated at the long wooden table and the only sound was the occasional clink of teacups and saucers.

Harry broke the silence, continuing the conversation that had started a short time ago.

“What were they like?”

Remus’ usually laid back expression faltered a little at the seriousness of the question. He was no stranger to Harry’s musings about his parents, yet he could never get used to the sadness he saw in the boy’s eyes when the topic came up.

“They loved you very much, Harry,” Remus replied softly.

The look of frustration on Harry’s face was obvious.

“But I want to know them. Don’t you understand? I never had the chance to experience what they were like as people. Tell me more about them, please?”

Harry took a deep breathe before continuing, hoping to curb the awkwardness he felt at asking so many difficult questions. The reassuring look on Remus’ face urged him to carry on.

“You knew them better than anyone. Tell me how they were together. What things remind you of them? Anything. I need to know.”

Remus looked up again from his tea and smiled tenderly at Harry.

“Do you know what reminds me most of your Mother?”

Harry shook his head and waited patiently for Remus to continue.

“Oranges.”

Remus grinned, noticing the confused look on Harry’s young face.

“Oranges?” Harry asked.

“Yes, oranges. Lily adored the scent of oranges, so she made pomanders. You know? Oranges studded with cloves and tied with fancy ribbons. She hung the delicate ornaments in the wardrobes and in the kitchen permeating the scent thought the house. Your father told me if he had to describe love as a smell it would be oranges.”

Harry sighed. There were so many small things he didn’t know, wished he’d had the opportunity to learn, and finding out something so personal and sentimental made him miss them even more.

“Thanks, Remus,” Harry said, content to sit quietly with his tea, alone with his thoughts and memories that weren’t really memories at all.

 

~*~*~

 

Draco hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but there were so many Order members staying at Grimmauld Place that summer after his sixth year that it was difficult not to hear snippets of hushed conversations here and there. He had come back down after dinner for a glass of water and stopped short at the door to the kitchen when he heard Harry and Remus talking.

It was strange. He hadn’t thought much about Harry’s parents. It wasn’t that he didn’t know they were dead, that was in the history books, but he’d never before considered if from a more personal viewpoint. He and Harry had forged a friendship of sorts over the summer, and hearing Harry discuss his Mum and Dad in such a personal way made Draco consider just how much they actually had in common.

Draco’s own parents were gone, so he knew that emptiness well. Though, his mother and father were still alive and he’d had years to get to know their habits and idiosyncrasies.

His budding friendship with the Order’s Golden Boy aside, Draco still felt like an outsider amongst his new companions. After his father broke out of Azkaban the previous summer, his mother had disappeared and he hadn’t heard from either of them since. Draco assumed his parents, or at least his father, were fully involved in the strategy planning the Order was following through well-placed spies, but he didn’t know anything more than that and really didn’t want to.

Draco’s anger at being forgotten, and at not being as important as the Dark Lord’s cause sent him running to Professor Snape with promises to do whatever he could to help bring Voldemort down. The Potions Master had been sceptical at first, not quite understanding what brought about Draco’s sudden change of reasoning, but with time and many late-night conversations Draco’s allegiance had become understood and accepted.

So here he was, housed at Order headquarters with people who he’d never considered friends, listening outside the door to their private conversations. Not quite the best way to get off on the right foot.

When he heard the chairs scrape against the kitchen floor, Draco jumped, startled from his thoughts, Not wanting to have to explain his indiscretion, he tiptoed back upstairs, his mind swirling with information.

 

~*~*~

 

Harry went about his nightly routine quietly as not to wake Ron who was snoring loudly in the small bed across the room. His earlier conversation with Remus played heavily on his mind as he climbed into bed and pulled the cotton sheets up to his chin. He lay there for some time, his thoughts preventing him from sleeping as they often did.

After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, Harry sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He needed to talk to Draco.

The two boys had an unconventional friendship, if you could even call it that. Harry couldn’t explain it really. Draco understood him, and wasn’t afraid to tell him what was really on his mind.

When things were confusing, or damn right awful, Hermione and Ron were almost too smothering with their good intentions and careful words. Draco wasn’t like that. He was the first to tell Harry if he thought he was being a git, or if he was angry for no good reason. It was refreshing, if not a little humbling on occasion. He could always count on Draco to tell him the truth.

Harry thought they had made great strides from enemies to friends, but not everyone else felt the same. Most of the order had a difficult time accepting Draco, but for some reason Harry trusted the other boy, and needed him in an odd way.

Sometimes Harry wondered if there was a little more to it; a snippet of something he couldn’t quite explain. Some of the things Draco said, some of the comfort he provided made Harry wonder just what Draco really did think about him. Generally he brushed it off, not wanting to think too much about things he didn’t really understand.

Toeing his feet into a pair of too-big slippers, Harry padded out the door and down the corridor to Draco’s room.

 

~*~*~

 

Harry knocked tentatively at Draco’s bedroom door. Although the boys talked often, Harry still worried about interrupting Draco or getting in the way. Draco called for him to come in, so he opened the door and glanced around the immaculate room. Harry was always amazed at how tidy Draco was. Harry wasn’t near as careful with his things, and since Ron wasn’t any better, their room usually looked like a bomb had gone off.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Harry asked, moving into the room and perching at the end of Draco’s bed.

Draco shook his head and kicked a few pieces of stray ribbon and a pair of scissors under the bed before he sat down beside Harry.

“What’s on your mind?”

Harry paused for a few moments to collect his muddled thoughts. Draco was always willing to listen when he needed to vent or sort things out, but he was never really sure how much Draco would really want to know.

“Remus was telling me about my parents again. I don’t know why I still let it get to me, but you know after Sirius died I really started to wonder more about what they’d been like.”

Harry lowered his eyes, the expression on his face matching the troubled tone in his voice.

“I felt the need to hang onto whatever memories Remus had to replace the ones that I can’t conjure up in my head. Sirius and Remus knew them so well and I never got the chance. When I talk to Remus, it’s like I can almost remember them, but not quite. It’s frustrating.”

Something about the pensive look in Draco’s grey eyes almost made it seem as though the other boy understood first hand what Harry was getting at and his reply was barely audible.

“Sometimes I think it’s better not to have known.”

Harry searched the blonde’s face for clues to what he meant. The shock of something he never considered was obvious by his confused expression.

“How can it be better not to know your parents?” Harry wondered aloud.

“Then you don’t know what you’re missing when they’re gone.”

The statement was a simple one, but Harry could see the meaning behind Draco’s tired eyes. He wasn’t sure he agreed, but he could certainly understand Draco’s reasoning.

Harry rested his head on his friend’s shoulder gaining unexplainable warmth and comfort from Draco’s closeness. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to let out some of his earlier frustration.

“Draco?”

“Hmmm?”

“What’s that smell? I never noticed it when I first came in, but now it’s quite strong.”

The strange scent wasn’t unpleasant and Harry thought he recognized it but he couldn’t quite place it.

Draco’s cheeks reddened a little and he smiled tentatively at Harry before reaching under the bed to retrieve what he’d been working on. He held his hand out to Harry and opened it slowly, revealing an orange, studded with cloves and tied with a red and gold ribbon.

Harry took the pomander carefully from Draco and held it up in front of his nose inhaling the aroma. The scent was calming; spicy and fragrant with just a touch of citrus.

“You were listening.”

“Yes. I didn’t intend to, I just came downstairs and overheard. I didn’t know if I should say anything or not.”

You made this?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Uh, yeah,” Draco replied, his blush intensifying.

“Why?”

“Because you needed it.”

Harry turned the ornate fruit in his hand, looking at it from all sides, admiring the work Draco had obviously put into creating something so beautiful. Remus' words from earlier echoed in his mind and the unspoken meaning behind the gift he held in his palm filled his heart.

“Thank you.”

Draco laid his hand lightly over Harry’s, the pomander cradled between their almost-touching fingers. He leaned towards Harry and brushed the lightest of kisses on the other boy’s lips.

Harry knew Draco was going to kiss him just moments before their lips met. Something in his head registered that he was about to kiss Draco Malfoy, but for some reason it didn’t feel wrong at all. He relaxed into Draco’s arms, returning the kiss with all the emotion he felt inside.

Both boys broke apart their light embrace at the same time, searching each other’s eyes as if for explanation. Harry tentatively brushed his fingers across Draco’s pale cheek, looking for confirmation or some sign that their unexpected intimacy was still welcomed. Draco’s lips turned into a soft smile, warming Harry’s heart. He leaned in again, still touching Draco’s face, and relaxed into yet another kiss.

Understanding permeated the air, mingling with the tangy fragrance of spiced citrus. Harry knew that scent would forever be as important to him as it had been to his parents. New memories would replace the ones he previously couldn’t find, and that immediately gave him calming sense of peace.


End file.
